


True Inspiration

by kaminagi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7306048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaminagi/pseuds/kaminagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Creating in the real world is full of frustration and setbacks, so Arthur shows Ariadne that sometimes all she needs a fresh perspective.   After all, true inspiration is impossible to fake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Inspiration

There's a conversation, completely off-hand, they have not long after they first meet.

"Is there a place you'd like to go? Anywhere in the world."

It's small talk, nothing particularly meaningful. Arthur asks it as he's winding up the cords for the PASIV and Ariadne is clumsily shoving her arms into her jacket. There's an errant thought that makes him think that she actually looks... cute, fighting the tangles of her red sleeves and the micro-expression of triumph when her arms win and her hands emerge.

"Huh? What brought this on?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Except for coming to Paris, I know you haven't really travelled a lot. And everyone has places they dream of going."

Ariadne's gaze fixes on him and for a minute, her eyes are hypnotically unreadable. And then it grows shrewd and she laughs.

"In real life, right?"

He gives her a small smirk. "Yeah."

 

 

When he goes to see her, three and a half weeks after Inception instead of waiting for six months, Ariadne is at a cafe waiting for him. She does not ask why he is here when he said they weren't supposed to contact each other for at least half a year, barring emergencies. This certainly doesn't constitute an emergency. Arthur has his reasons.

She orders for them both - café au lait for him and an espresso for herself. He adds a croissant to the order, because she looks like she really needs to eat.

Ariadne rubs her eyes and drops her head onto the table. A patron grimaces at her in disapproval, but Arthur ignores him.

"How have you been?"

"Fine," she says, her voice muffled by the table.

Staring at the tumble of curls splayed on the table, he muses that she has lovely hair. It's not the first time he's noted it.

Arthur has spent enough time with Eames to know a lie when he hears one and enough with Cobb to know how to deal with someone when they're lying.

Their drinks arrive and he pushes the croissant and the espresso towards her. She ignores the croissant.

"Eat," he insists. "Tell me about your thesis."

"It's terrible," Ariadne says with a frustrated groan. "I thought that after all that building in dreamshare and stuff that I would just be able to put everything to paper. I had all these ideas but-"

She pounds her fist on the table lightly. Their neighbour's grimace turns into a frown.

"-it's like I can't make it concrete! It's not working. Everything is perfect, but only when it's still in my head. It feels like after all that paradoxical architecture, regular architecture is impossible."

Her head rises and she shoves the curls from face. He refrains from touching her hair, even though there's a stray curl that he really wants to tuck behind her ear.

"I want this - to make something real. I know I can make something amazing, but it's like all my ideas won't translate. It feels so impossible, like I can't imagine anything and just _aaarrgghh_."

Her hands run through her hair in the place of the creator's block she can't voice.

The croissant is pushed toward her again. Ariadne, finally noticing it, looks at him with confusion, so he smiles a little and nods. A reluctant bite is taken, along with a sip of espresso. That's too much caffeine, he thinks.

Arthur can see the dark circles under her eyes. It's not just simple impatience fueling her frustration; it's boredom and being fixated on ideas that have stagnated. An idea occurs to him, something he remembers asking her off hand not long after they had met, small talk. It gives him the courage to reach out and tuck that curl behind her ear. Her hair is as soft as it looks. His fingers tingle from contact.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but he smiles broadly at her.

"Let's take a trip."

 

 

"Oh, god. Was the blindfold necessary?"

"No, that was just for effect. Also, you're nosy, so I don't think I can trust you to keep your eyes closed."

She snorts, clearly unimpressed, but she doesn't deny Arthur's claim. "I prefer curious."

"Well, satisfaction did bring the cat back," Arthur answers mildly.

All Ariadne has managed to realize is that the weather is much too hot and dry and this is what happens when she just accepts Arthur's offer to go somewhere, anywhere, on sudden whim. He packed her suitcase and managed to get her on a plane without any hint of where they were going. Wherever they are, she doesn't understand the language that's being spoken, except that it's not French or English.

But it's worth it when he pulls the scarf away from her eyes and she sees she's in Egypt. The bright sun in Cairo is a shock to her eyes and he produces a pair of sunglasses for her seemingly from no where.

The culture shock is overwhelming and she grabs his arm, looking every which way.

"You abducted me and brought me to _Egypt_?" she says disbelievingly.

"I made the terms very clear when I offered. And you can hop back on the plane and head straight for Paris if you like. I'll buy the return ticket now."

She gapes at him for a moment. But Ariadne shakes her head and a smile shows up on her face.

The Pyramids are admittedly plain on the outside, but the fact they have been the sole survivor of the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World says something. Ariadne takes pictures at different angles, trips and falls in the sand three times (not even caring to brush the grains trapped in the embroidery of her short-sleeved white blouse or in the strands of her messily tied up hair), and fills a sketchbook. The engineering and history of the structures interest Arthur somewhat, but he doesn't find them particularly attractive until Ariadne begins a whole impromptu architecture lesson about them.

She is so absorbed, he can't stop smiling at how easy it is to learn from her as she explains everything she knows and how charming she is like this. How she wants to know what has made the Pyramids last so long, the terrible sacrifices made in order to execute the project, how her eyes light up when she finds the perfect shot of the marvel with a camel coincidentally in the corner.

"I'm going to have to ask you to take me to more places," Ariadne says, looking up from her sketchbook as they enjoy mint tea at an outdoor cafe. She looks a lot happier and much more relaxed. It looks like she has the beginning of a new design, something with a lot of pale stone facades and rugged features. Arthur can imagine it in the real world. He likes it already.

Arthur reminds himself she doesn't want the life that he's been leading. Once is enough. But there's enough of a world out there for her to see, for her to live, instead what can only be in seen in her mind.

 

 

_I fucked up._

Arthur drops everything the moment he gets the text and takes the first plane from Berlin to Paris. When Ariadne opens the door to her apartment two hours later, she looks surprised with his appearance and then resumes an expression of being distraught. She's struggling not to cry, but failing.

"What are you doing here?" she chokes out.

"I got your text," he says simply. "What happened?"

The door closes and she moves to her desk. Ariadne's face is buried in her arms.

"I-It's not a big deal, I know that," she mumbles. "But I... I was trying so hard and-"

Arthur moves to her side and places his hands on her arms. "Ariadne-"

Her head lifts and the tears are beginning to leak. "I'm going to cry. I can't stop it. If I talk, I'll cry."

He finds himself feeling alarmed.

"I mean, it's like I... I applied for this job and it's the first big one in a while. I've been skipped over at work for promotions because I thought they'd just-" She wipes her eyes, but it's getting harder for her speak without crying. "-just see how competent I was and they'd recognize me. But all these junior people move up and then I thought I could have this opportunity and-" She wipes her eyes again and chokes on her words. "I didn't manage my time well on the exam and I submitted it to the wrong email and missed the deadline. And then I tried to submit it again, but it bounced back because I added a stupid period at the end of the email-" Sniff, sniff, the tears are coming down. "-and it was another twenty minutes before I noticed and I panicked and forwarded it again. But I'm going to get screened out because-"

"Ariadne, it's not the end of the world," Arthur tries. "You'll get more opportunities."

"I know, I know, but it's so frustrating and it's just that it was _my_ own stupid mistake," she says, her eyes still full of tears. "And now I'm crying and it's embarrassing and I hate it because I can't even say it was because I was incompetent at that thing they're assessing, it's me not paying attention."

Arthur shakes her gently. He knows she's anything _but_ incompetent.

"Hey, you're young," he tries. "There's always next time. You can expand your options."

"I know, I know," she repeats, wiping her eyes. Arthur pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to her so she can dry her eyes. The tears don't stop and she's trying hard to control her voice, but it's not working. "I'm just..."

Arthur gives her an even look. "You haven't really failed before, so when something small goes wrong, it hurts a lot."

"I've failed," Ariadne responds in a small voice. "I've failed before. It just feels like it was a series of stupid mistakes and I hate it. But this is the part I always trip over and I thought I'd make it past this stage for _once_. And I resent a little how other people-"

He pulls her into a hug. Arthur considers it impulsive and foolish, but he's already done it and when she curls into him, he knows he's not being stupid. "Don't compare yourself," he murmurs. "You do what you can. Ariadne, I've seen how confident you can be. Maybe this time wasn't your time."

She gives a watery smile. "I think I'll going to be upset for awhile. I'm not going to kill myself over it, but I've been so mopey about it. I'm sorry that you came from who knows where over my stupid text-"

He shakes his head.

"Let's go for a walk."

 

 

Ariadne is trying not to be upset, really. But Arthur can tell if she tries talking about it, she'll start crying again and she'll beat herself up about crying over it when it's done and over. He knows the feeling, the sense of failing and being unable to move on right away. Or in the case of inception, when it was life-threatening.

Still, he seizes her hand and begin walking toward their destination.

"The Louvre?" she remarks with confusion.

"I'm surprised that you've never gone, but I remember you saying you always wanted to go there."

She shrugs. "I never really had time and it's not like it's going away. And I didn't want to compete with those DaVinci Code tourists. Or wait in the ridiculously long line to see the Mona Lisa."

"Yeah, I guess La Giaconda is overrated. But what about for Pei?"

"Shiny metal and glass is interesting, but I like to add carved stone or natural wood. I like a hybrid feel - too much metal and concrete is cold and boring, but all stone and wood can be heavy and old."

Arthur nods approvingly at her tastes. "Balance."

"So, why are we going to the Louvre?" she asks again when they're inside.

"Think of this as a well-deserved break to expand your horizons," he smiles. "A vacation to collect data."

Ariadne gives a shaky laugh and he feels her fingers shift around until their hands are firmly clasped.

He feels a swell of pleasure at the way she curls her hand around his.

"Shall we?"

The afternoon is easy enough. Ariadne's mind is exhausted from disappointment. Arthur can tell she's just accepting the visit as a distraction.

She tells him everything she knows about the building's architecture, they make a game of finding all the little dogs in the Renaissance paintings (she's really good at it and she loves dogs), and admire the marble sculptures. He points out his favourite, the one of Athena that looks like she's judging everyone around her.

"I wonder," Ariadne says, trying to sound light, "how many times they must have screwed up working on the stone before they knew how to make something that beautiful. To put a chisel to the stone, put who knows how many hours in, and then find out it's ruined."

He can tell she's thinking about flaws and failures.

"Probably enough times," Arthur says. "And sometimes it can't be helped if the stone cracks in a way that was impossible to tell before it was hewn from the quarry."

"I guess."

She looks at him and softly smiles. "Thank you."

Arthur can't help himself and he hopes that he's not taking advantage, but he chances it and kisses her on the cheek.

"Any time," he says.

Ariadne blushes and he notices the tone of her smile has changed to something a little less melancholy.

 

 

When Ariadne opens the door to her apartment, Arthur sees her face is rosy from happy excitement. He doesn't even get a chance to blink before she wraps her arms around him.

"Congratulations," he says evenly as he hugs her back.

She pulls away with a positively brilliant smile and leans back in to kiss him. It catches him off-guard, but he's not complaining. Between now and the last visit, he's stolen (countless, enough to surprise him each time he gets away with it) kisses from her. Fair is fair, he thinks when he sees her smiling, since she's stolen his heart without any effort, without him even realizing it until now.

"It's only two months," Ariadne says, when he pulls away.

"Still."

"And I was going to be on a travel assignment too, for a week in that same period, but that was a no-go-"

He kisses her again.

"Still," he repeats. "This the opportunity you wanted, right? It's a start."

She smiles, hesitantly. "I'm going to admit, with all the setbacks and stuff to get to this point, I'm sorta worried about it. And I'm kinda scared and-" Ariadne takes a deep breath. "But let's see, right?"

"Hey, it's about the experience," Arthur replies, reaching out to brush the strands of hair away from her face. "And what did you say? The boss is giving you pretty much free rein over the design. And you just need to provide a preliminary plan."

"It's only part of the building, one of the wings, and it still needs to go with the overall parts for the main structure that the senior partners have already designed," Ariadne says, trying not to grin too much. "If I do well, they might extend my assignment. And I need a good idea, something new. I want to go with something natural, but modern, you know?"

She's getting giddy, Arthur can tell, with ideas.

"... I just need something good, for inspiration. Something to focus my design on, but I feel like I'm all over the place, and oh, god, my assignment starts two weeks from now! What am I going to do for a design...?"

Arthur twines his fingers with hers and smiles.

"Let's celebrate."

 

 

"You know," Ariadne says, "I think I should actually be worried this time."

She's rubbing her glove-clad hands together. Arthur hopes that this goes as planned, because there are things in the world that he cannot improvise, that really are beyond his control.

"I mean, the fact that you told me to dress _warmly_ should have been a tip off," she goes on, blowing on her hands before shoving them into the pockets of her parka. "I'm freezing here. Why the hell did you bring me to Iceland?"

"It's a surprise," Arthur replies. He knows the winter roads from past experience and the weather isn't bad - it's clear skies, plenty of stars and no moon. And it's almost dark enough. He thinks they might be lucky enough. Still, Arthur drives cautiously.

"I could be nice and warm-ish back in Paris," she goes on, looping her stripey scarf around her neck one more time. "Getting drunk on some very nice prosecco. And I would even be gracious enough to invite you to get drunk with me."

"Instead, you're in Iceland with me."

"Which is supposed to be nice and _green_ ," she grumbles. "I see a lot more ice here than expected. Because, you know, Greenland."

He tries not to laugh.

"Should I be worried?" she repeats as she draws circles on her window from the fog of her breath. "You brought camping gear. Those folding chairs and a lantern and food. We're not going to sleep in the car, are we?"

"No."

"This better be one hell of a surprise."

It's a little while longer and he thinks he has the right spot, according to the car's GPS. Ariadne's half-asleep when he shakes her gently and pulls a knitted toque with a pom-pom over her head before telling her that they've arrived. Ariadne patiently (for once) sits in the car as he pulls out the camping chairs out of the trunk and sets them up before she gets out and wraps herself up in the huge woolen blankets he hands her.

"Look at the Milky Way," he says, as he sits in one of the chairs and looks up at the silver river of stars in the sky. He pushes a camera into her hands.

"Pretty," she admits, seating herself in the other chair and pulling her scarf around her face and letting the camera rest in her lap. "But there are less remote places to stargaze."

"Just wait," he says.

Instead, Ariadne points to the sky and names the constellations she recognizes, and he swears he sees a faint flush of colour across her face when he guides her hand up to one she misses, to a strand of stars resembling a loose string of jewels. ("Corona borealis," he murmurs, "a crown for you.")

And then, slowly, the sky lights up with ribbons of green and blue and rose, dancing across the sky. Ariadne gasps and clutches Arthur's arm, her eyes turned skyward and wide with unmistakable awe. He watches her slowly raise the camera up to take a photo, the loud sound of the shutter clicking several times and Ariadne shifting slightly each time, before she lets the device drop back into her lap. Her eyes return to the sky, unable to look away from the luminous waves.

"I always wanted to see the aurora," she murmurs.

"I know," he answers. He remembers all the things she said she wanted to see. "What do you think?"

For a moment (or a hundred), it's like they're the only two people in the world that seems far too vast. But when he feels the weight of her head on his shoulder, he comes back, like he's waking from a dream.

"It's beautiful," she says at last.

"Inspirational?"

She leans up to kiss him in response. "Like nothing else."

 

 

The way the glass ripples across the facade of the building reminds him of the aurora borealis, a shimmering wave that makes the sunlight reflect off it in iridescent sparkles, all across a frame of steel and stone. The light filters in, diffuse but not cold. The rugged texture of the stone is an elegant contrast, an ancient style elevated by marble as the material of choice.

It's taken over two years for it to be approved, another three to be finished and built, but Arthur thinks it's marvelous. Something deserving Ariadne's name on it. It's like nothing he's ever seen, even in dreams.

"It's stunning," he tells her, when she finally appears next to him, finally getting away from her congratulatory bosses and admiring patrons around them. "Your best work."

"More amazing than turning Paris upside down?" she asks, holding a flute of champagne for him. "Or impossible staircases?"

"Yes," he answers, taking the glass and plucking a smoked salmon and sour cream canape from a passing waiter. "Truly."

The atrium is full of people for the building's opening, all murmuring appreciatively, but he's here just for her.

"Thank you," Ariadne whispers, pulling him close, "for all the inspiration."

"If there's ever a place you want or need to go," he says, "I'll take you there."

"Really?" Ariadne smiles at him like nobody else is there.

"Any time," he promises, leaning in and kissing her. "Anywhere in the world, always."


End file.
